


Juno Steel and the Web O' Flies

by Axel_Knochenmus



Series: Courtly Affairs [1]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fae, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, It's For a Case, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-06-15 11:36:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15412059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axel_Knochenmus/pseuds/Axel_Knochenmus
Summary: The fae aren't exactly Juno's favorite people to tangle with, but when a respected lawyer's son breaks hospitality and ends up as a hostage, Juno finds himself heading straight into the middle of a dangerously illusory court. As the accusations fly, someone has to see past the superstition and trickery to find the truth. Luckily, Juno might be just the right detective for the job.





	1. Court Dates (Are Never Fun)

**Author's Note:**

> This started with a tumblr post. And then some jokes and then.... This.
> 
> Many thanks to Sunshine_and_fuckin_rainbows for helping me work through this monstrosity and giving me a reason to stay on track.

Humanity has always looked to the stars and asked the same, tired old question: “Are we alone out there?” They expanded across the solar system, and beyond, stretching themselves throughout the good ol’ Milky Way that they’ve always called home. They explored across the stars, seeking other life beyond their own and taking anything they liked in their path. The thing is, they never really  _ were _ alone.

_ “Mistah Steel!” _

And, in spite of his own attempts to be, neither was Juno Steel.

With a grumbled sigh, the detective in question broke from his musings. “What the hell is it this time, Rita?”

“Another client, boss! Sounds like this one’s pretty urgent, too!”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Juno muttered to himself. “Rita! You know that I just got back from-” His voice trailed off as he saw her. Curled brown hair falling loose from what was once a tightly coiled bun, black eyeliner tear stains trailing from puffy red eyes to where they dropped from her narrow, pointed chin. Her sharp, professional attire suggested she was likely in the business of something that used a lot of big words that could make the average person faint just from the struggle of cramming all the syllables into their own, tiny brains – not to mention what it would take to understand them. Shining eyes met the detective’s. Well, he had to give her credit: she had a pretty strong gaze for someone who looks like she’d been crying for at least ten minutes. He sighed. “- the last one… I’m sorry, there, miss?”

“Cerys. I’m... Cerys Owen.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m sorry if this is an inconvenient time for you, detective. I assure you if there-”

“If there was any other option you wouldn’t have shown up. Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. Can you just get to the point-”

“Mistah Steel!” Rita exclaimed with outrage. “You can’t just talk to a perfectly nice lady like that!”

“Sorry, can you  _ please _ get to the point? If really  _ is _ as urgent as it’s supposed to be then that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Before Rita could cut in about Juno’s manners again, Cerys wasted no time jumping into her predicament. “My son has been taken by the Dempsey Court. I have reason to believe that they intend to kill him.”

“Ah. You want me to get him out before they get the chance.”

“Exactly.”

“Let me guess: dumb kid who thinks a little too highly of himself decides to walk into a Court, figures he knows the rules well enough to get out of it unscathed, like ancient Earthen legends pretend happens all the time. He breaks the rules of hospitality, and since they’re, y'know, actually _ laws _ in their territories, now he’s trapped. And managed to piss someone off enough to want him dead, but not enough to kill him on the spot. They’d rather make a show of it.” Juno paused for a moment, thinking. He’d heard this woman’s name before. Some quirky advertising campaign in the middle of one of Rita’s streams, he was sure.

“... Especially when his mother is one of the cofounders and head lawyers of the Owen and Owens Law Offices, a business that  _ isn’t  _ wrapped around the little fingers of any Court. Most likely, if you pledge your office’s services to the Dempseys, they’ll let your kid off for nothing. But, you do that, you ruin the integrity of everything you’ve built the company on so far. Am I in the ballpark yet?” The detective finished with an inquisitive brow.

Cerys nodded, a renewed wetness filming her eyes. “Yes, I made the same assessment myself.” She stopped momentarily to wipe her eyes. “I'll do it if there's no other choice. But, I had to try. I've heard rumors about you, Detective Steel. I don't know if they're true, I don't care. I just need to know if… if its possible.”

“Well, it's not  _ likely  _ – but it might be ‘possible.’ I'll need more information on exactly what he did, everything you've got.”

“Thank you, detective,” she spoke barely loud enough to be heard.

“Don’t thank me yet.”

With a soft chuckle, Cerys shook her head. “I believe I already did. Even if- Even if we don’t know, yet. At least you are willing to try. Most wouldn’t even go that far.”

 

* * *

  
  


The Dempsey Court owned, publicly, a majority of all the museums and art galleries on Mars, especially any that boasted Earthen artefacts. Every last one of them was as extravagant as you would expect, with a handful of them boasting some sort of gala event at least once every week. The Galánta Gallery of Art and Sculpture boasted twice-weekly open viewing parties, and a constant rotation of works from throughout the galaxy. So, at the very least, getting in definitely wasn’t a problem.

There was something about the Arts that drew the fae in like flies, Juno mused. Or maybe honey badgers: with poisonous spurs, single-minded intensity, and teeth that were known to bite through rock walls if they were anything less than six inches deep. He’d been there for the kinds of things the Kanegawas would do for their shows, and he might not be able to say much for how the Dempseys operated, there was always something a little too convenient about how willing other galleries were to lend priceless artefacts to what might as well have amounted to a rich people’s money carnival.

“Well, here we are,” Juno announced, bored. “The most expensive-yet-technically-free art gallery on all of Mars.” A few nearby patrons gave him strange looks, probably because his old duster made him look like a sewer rabbit by their standards. Nearly every other person there who didn’t appear to be working dressed like they were trying to compete with the paintings to catch everyone’s eyes.

“If you call selling your soul to the fae ‘technically free,’ then I suppose so,” Cerys remarked drily. Her own dress was a lovely black number with a straight skirt. Simple, but professional and effective. The Dempseys had invited her to this particular event to negotiate for her son’s life. Of course, they didn’t phrase it that way. Instead, they said something like ‘discussing reparations for young Corin’s grievous error he inflicted upon the Court’ or whatever fancy sounding front they were going for. 

Juno scoffed. “I don’t know about you, Miss Owen, but mine’s hardly much of a prize. A toy from one of those quarter-cred mystery dispensers would be a better investment.”

“Are you-” Cerys stared at Juno incredulously. “If I didn’t know better, detective. I’d say you were enjoying this.”

“A kid’s life is on the line, here. I don’t know what kinda person you think I am to enjoy that, but they’re probably not the kind you should be trusting to help you.”

She shook her head. “Not that. I meant your whole, ‘I don’t fit in and nothing  _ really _ matters’ look you’ve got going on.”

“What’s that supposed to-” Juno cut off, staring into the throng of guests.

“Something wrong?” Cerys turned to look.

“It’s nothing, just-”

“Cerys,  _ darling _ , you look lovely!” A high, lilting voice crooned excitedly.

Shelley Dempsey was the kind of woman who looked like she couldn’t decide if she should be at the local PTA bake sale, on a high-end fashion runway, or standing ominously between two trees in an old forest on a foggy night. Her hair wasn’t styled so much as  _ sculpted _ , and its color matched the iridescent bronze markings around her face. Juno had heard once that the fae looked less human the more they aged. If that was true, then this woman must have been older than any fae he’d ever met.

“Madam Dempsey,” Cerys greeted, plastering on a smile more gracious than Juno thought the situation called for. “You look particularly divine yourself.”

Madam Dempsey laughed less like a person, and more like a chorus of tiny bells. “Oh, come now dear. There’s no need for flattery.” She reached out and took Cerys’s hand, leaning far too close like a friend whispering secrets. “Please, call me Shelley.”

This? This right here is why Juno hated dealing with fae regents. They get up in your face and personal like they own every part of the air around you. And most of the time? They really, really do.

“Wow,” Juno said, because that’s the best thing to do when you’re trying to distract someone. Just play dumb. “Are you really ‘The’ Shelley Dempsey? Like, you  _ own _ this whole place?”

She turned to regard Juno like someone might look at a bug they found in their thirty dollar soup at a business dinner, but they were trying to be polite about it so the wealthy foreign investors weren’t put off the whole deal. “Why, I don’t believe I know you, do I? Who are you?”

“Me?” He laughed. “Oh, no one special, ma’am. Especially not compared to you, after all. I mean, the Dempsey Queen, in the flesh? I’m just a particularly lucky nobody.”

“We ran into each other on the way in,” Cerys cut in. “I thought he looked like a former client of mine, but I guess I got the wrong lady.”

Juno grinned, not bothering to even pretend it was anything but fake. “I mean, wrong for you, at least. I got a nice conversation with some pretty lovely people.”

Shelley hummed with feigned interest. She turned to Cerys. “I hope you’ll understand darling, but the reason I came to speak to you now was to inform you that I won’t be able to give you my full attention until the end of tonight’s party. As the host, I have an obligation to my guests, after all.”

Cerys drew up sharply. “Wh- I understand, but…”

The disarmingly sweet smile Shelley leveled at the other woman was just wrong enough to make someone skin crawl. “There’s plenty of entertainment here tonight, dearest. I’m sure you can find something  _ nice  _ to occupy your time until then.” She winked, pulling away. “Until later.”

A moment of awkward silence passed after she’d left, broken simultaneously by two sentiments.

“Wow, she did  _ not  _ like me.” “This was a mistake, we’re doomed.” 

“Hey, wait a minute-” Juno frowned at Cerys. “You can’t give up now. We  _ just _ started.”

“Did you see her?” Cerys sighed. “There’s a reason she’s lived this long, detective. Even with the war. This is impossible.”

Juno was already shaking his head. “This is why I don’t like taking clients with me on the job: every last one of you gets cold feet the second something looks like a problem.”

“Problem? Detective Steel, I think we’re past problem. More like a catastrophe.” She holds herself carefully, arms crossed like she’s trying to hug herself, but not too obviously.

“This isn’t even a setback, Cerys. This is exactly what we expected walking in here.”

“Perhaps… but it’s different when you’re seeing it.”

Juno sighs. “Once again, why I don’t like clients on the job. Look, I already told you getting your kid back wasn’t likely.”

“You said it was possible,” Cerys countered.

“And it is.”

She narrowed her eyes at Juno, as piercing as one might expect from someone who’s life kinda revolved around getting people to talk. Too bad he was immune. “Enlighten me.”

“Look, I’m not going to sit and pretend that I have all the answers right now.” Or any, he thought. They were still missing a hell of a lot from the bigger picture. “But trust me that right now, there’s a non-zero chance that I can help you.  _ If  _ -” he stressed. “-you let me do my job.”

Cerys closed her eyes. She looked uncertain, as she thought about his words. This was why she had hired him, wasn’t it? Doing the seemingly impossible... And even if the results weren’t always what you might call ‘perfect,’ they were still better than anything you could reasonably expect. “All right, detective. You  _ are _ the expert here. What do you want me to do.”

“Exactly what Shelley expects you to do: entertain yourself. Keep your comms handy, I’ll call you once I get a lead.”


	2. Private Dining for Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of planning that this story takes is going to be the death of me.
> 
> (Also thank you to everyone so far <3 I love and appreciate you I'm just usually too tired to respond.)

If you asked Juno Steel, then the world was split along two lines: the impossible and the possible. Juno dealt in the latter. The non-zero chances. A quirky little phrase that he hated as much as it kept him going most days. You see, if chances were zero, then there’s no reason to keep doing, well, anything, right? If chances are zero, then there’s nothing you can do to change that. But if they aren’t, then you can do something to try and land ever so much closer to whatever result you’re looking for.

Some people might call it a mantra, or a spell or something, but Juno doesn’t believe in magic. Just cause and effect.

For example: Juno has a plan. He needs insider information about the Dempsey Court, but the fae are notoriously loyal. So, how then to you get that kind of information? Either you barter it out of them and lose everything you own and sign your life away in the meanwhile, or get a non-fae connected to them to talk. This particular event has a lot of human waitstaff floating around the crowds with plates of hors d’oeuvres and drinks for the guests. They might not know anything, but if he gets the right one they might at least be able to get him somewhere so he can find the information he wants by himself. So all he has to do is flag them down and start talking in the hopes that it’ll go somewhere.

Of course, therein lies the problem. He tried getting the attention of a couple of the staff, and they all looked like they’d rather die than go within fifteen meters of him. Which, honestly? Was pretty damn rude. He may not have dressed up much, but at least he’d  _ showered _ for this.

So Juno was going to have to get creative, then. They couldn’t ignore him forever if he made a complete ass of himself. All he had to do was make sure he was something they couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t the worst plan he’d ever come up with, so that meant it was actually pretty good in his book. Just cause and effect.

Picture: Juno Steel at the cheese spread table with the weird bacon and the fountain things that could have been filled red wine or blood, prepared to go full ham and clear out a few of the trays by himself. There was a non-zero chance that this would force one of the waitstaff to finally acknowledge him, or at least the mess he’d made. And hey, he was feeling a bit hungry anyways.

“You know that eating the fae’s food means they own you, don’t you?”

Juno startled from his focus on building the perfect triple-decker cheese-prosciutto-cracker sandwich to look up at the person who spoke and -  _ wow _ . He’d deny the stutter of his heart to his grave. The waiter was taller than Juno had expected, but, he realised after a quick glance down, that was partly due to the heels that looked like they were part of the uniform. Handsome in a way that seemed soft on the surface, but edged on dangerous. No name tag. Either the Dempseys didn’t care enough to know their staff’s names, or knew them well enough that it didn’t matter if anyone else did.

It was a moment too long before Juno replied, but going by the slight upward tilt of his lips, the waiter didn’t seem to mind. “Honestly, doesn’t seem like that’s my problem. Why, is that how they got you?”

Handsome Waiter leaned in with a small chuckle. “Me? No, no. I’m just paying off debts. You, however, seem to be audacious enough that it interferes with your common sense. I thought someone should warn you.”

Juno scoffed. “That implies that I had any sense to be interfered with in the first place. I’d be more worried about whoever’s stupid enough to think they’d actually  _ want _ to own a problem like me.”

“Oh, come now,” the waiter said with a purr. His bright eyes skated over Juno with sharp interest. “I’m sure that you have any number of  _ attractively _ valuable qualities about you.”

For a moment, Juno wondered why everything in his life couldn’t go as smoothly as this was. He leaned in as well, probably violating some kind of proximity rule of decency here, but fuck it. No one could really accuse him of being decent. “Oh, trust me. Being a problem is  _ exactly _ what most people want from me. That’s just not the kind of thing you really want to keep around for long.”

The waiter smelled really,  _ really _ good. It wasn’t a food smell or anything else Juno was familiar with; rather, it was something a lot more unique than that. It paired pretty damn well with the tall drink of water that came when you looked at him for a while. In a room as flashy as this, Juno was pretty certain there weren’t a lot of people doing that. Damn shame, too. They had no idea what they were missing.

“Well, perhaps,” he allowed. “I think though, that I might have found a problem that _ I’m  _ interested in.”

“Oh, yeah?” Juno grinned back. He was damn near giddy and, even as he tried to hold back most of it, it probably showed. “What problem might that be?”

The waiter winked. “Your name. I don’t have it. Would you mind giving it to me?”

“Ah, well, that’s an easy one.” Juno paused. He had a slight problem: If he told the guy his name and he was recognized, it could tip him off to something being up and blow the whole mess apart. But, it also wasn’t going to stay under wraps for long. Ah, well, what the hell. “It’s Juno. Juno Steel. And what about you?”

“If you hear my coworkers say it, I might be called Sir Franks. But you, dear Juno, can call me Basil.” Basil leaned back with the sly expression of the cat that caught the canary. It looked insufferably good on him, and Juno couldn’t wait to get rid of it.

“That’s sweet of you, Basil.” Juno stepped back as well, then looked around with a frown. He made a point to look between Basil and the rest of the room. “You wouldn’t have somewhere nicer for a lady to relax in better company, would you? I’m feeling crowded.”

Basil offered a slight bow, gesturing formally with one arm. “Of course, if you’ll follow me.”

He had to focus. Juno bit the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the pleasant buzz he felt following the waiter into the back. It was dangerous to let himself get too caught up in this – in the man so intoxicating that Juno hadn’t needed even a sip of liquor to get his head swimming.

With a slow breath in, just far enough away to only just catch the man’s scent, Juno braced himself. He had a  _ plan _ , and he intended to follow through with it.

At the employee door a guard watched Juno follow Basil through, reacting only to remind the waiter that “Optional breaks are on a twenty minute limit, so make it quick.” Which was… odd. Nice to know the Dempseys factor quickies into their employee break schedule.

… And, apparently, a room in the back marked ever-so-helpfully with a very  _ friendly _ stick figure sign on the door. Must keep them from causing a health code violation in the stockroom, or… something.

“Wait, hold on, is this _ really _ -” Juno was almost in too much disbelief to say it, turning slowly to examine the various company-provided ‘supplies’ across the shelves, the strangely comfortable-looking futon, and the  _ padded wall _ .

“The Dempseys pride themselves on their ‘progressive’ accommodations and benefits for their employees.” Basil smirked, closing the door and circling closer to Juno as he looked. “We humans are such, hm,  _ horny _ creatures, don’t you know? Fickle and unreliable, but give us time for a quick fuck every once in a while and we’ll behave.”

“Must have missed that memo.”

That disastrously inviting mouth pulled back into a wide grin, all too-sharp teeth and gleaming. Basil drew in closer, hand resting on Juno’s side. “You really don’t seem like the type to behave, do you, Juno?”

Juno pulled in a breath, tried to remind himself about his plan, and took his opening. “You know, I don’t think you are, either.”

“Definitely not,” Basil breathed against Juno’s lips. “I can think of far too many wicked things that I could do.”

Juno tried to not let himself enjoy the kiss but, hell, he was only human after all. Maybe the Dempseys had a point about that part.

When they pulled away Juno shuddered, alarm bells ringing in his head about deadlines and dead children. His next words were more breathless than he’d like, but they got the point across anyways, “Wicked, like, I dunno, slipping off the Poseidon's Fury Audemars Nerio one-of-a-kind exclusive watch that Councilman Tomason’s so famous for parading around all the time right off of their wrist in the middle of a crowded party with no one the wiser?”

Basil stopped, blinking in confusion. “Juno… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Juno forced a laugh, trying to distance himself from the parts of himself that wanted to lean back in and forget. “Yes, you do. I saw you. I wonder if you’ve had a chance to dump it or if we’d find it in your pockets. What do you think, Basil? Assuming that is your name, which, I doubt, really. Would be stupid to steal from the guests of the Dempsey court under your own name. And the kind of skill it takes to pull off what you did? You’ve been in the business far too long to be that stupid.”

“Oh, dear,” Basil sighs, cupping the side of Juno’s face gently, his voice taking an indescribable tone as he spoke. “You should stop this while you are ahead, Juno Steel. It doesn’t have to go like this.”

His name dripped from Basil’s lips like honey. “Doesn’t matter how sweetly you say my name, Franks. It’s not going to stop me from turning around and telling the Queen what you’re up to. But, I can think of a way that you could convince me not to.”

Surprise flashed in Basil's eyes briefly, before settling into carefully placed amusement. “And how would that be?” 

“Well, put down the plasma cutter, for one. I don’t about you, but I think my blaster could do a hell of a lot more damage a lot faster than your knife could.” Juno grinned, nudging the end of said blaster into Basil’s side.

Basil laughed, dropping the cutter to the floor. “Don’t behave like you should, indeed. What else would you have of me?”

“Have you heard of Corin Owen?” Juno asked lightly.

“Vidal’s little friend? The one that Madam Dempsey has locked up on suspicions of trying to murder her dear, sweet child?” Basil offered. “Maybe a thing or two.”

There’s some new information. A lot of it, in fact. Juno hadn’t heard that Corin was friends with Vidal, or that Corin’s misconduct was  _ attempted murder. _ This was going to be a hell of a lot more complicated than he thought. “That would be the one. I’m here to find out what, exactly, happened.”

Basil tilted his head to the side curiously. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m a detective, it’s what I do. I detect.”

“I see…” Basil straightened. “I can’t say I could tell you much about what happened myself, but I might be able to help you find the information you’re looking for. Provided you… forget what you saw.”

“Return the goods and you have yourself a deal. No offense, but I can’t just let you walk away with it in good conscience. Leave it in the lost and found if you like, to keep the disappearance unconnected to you, but you’re not keeping it.”

“You drive a hard bargain, detective. All right. I suppose I’ve found a much more interesting prize in all this anyways.” Basil added the last part slyly, stroking juno’s cheek with the hand still on his face.

It took more willpower than Juno was willing to admit to not lean into it. He stepped back, finally finding some room to breathe that wasn’t choked with Basil’s scent. “Good, then let's get going.”


	3. Down in the Dumps

The downside to Juno’s plan working as well as it was, is that he knew it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. And, at this point, he was pretty certain it was the heeled black work boot of one Basil Franks, handsome waiter and clandestine master thief.

It was a risk, bringing Basil into the investigation. He had no idea what kind of person Basil was, and Juno had already shown his hand. The thief could disappear with whatever else he must have stolen over the course of the night that Juno hadn’t seen, and Juno would be back at square one without an in to find what he was looking for.

Juno didn’t like taking it on good faith, not when he didn’t even have the man’s name. Not a real one, at least. Even the Fae required that to operate their contracts. No amount of superstition or litigation could hold up under false premises like that. But, for whatever reason, it seemed he’d decided to play along. And that was damn near more suspicious than if he’d just booked it the first chance he got.

In a lull between his platters, Basil swept by and offered Juno a drink with a flourish. “I thought the lady looked a bit thirsty, so I prepared something special for you.”

Juno stared at the glass, brightly colored with more glitter and candy gemstones than alcohol and a tacky reflective umbrella. “What makes you think I’d trust your ‘special’ drink, Franks?”

Basil, of course, ignored him with a mild hum. “You know, Juno,  _ darling _ , you would be less… noticeable, if you at least pretended to turn your gawking onto the art like everyone else, instead of watching me the whole time.”

Juno rolled his eyes, grabbing the drink. “I’m still not drinking it,  _ and _ the so-called ‘art’ here is terrible. It looks more like people competing to see who can distill the most wealth into the tackiest piece of garbage they can find.”

His remark was met with a smirk. “It’s like you’ve never been in a high society museum before. As far as they’re concerned, that’s _ exactly _ what art is.”

Juno made a face. It wasn’t technically a museum, but he recalled the Kanegawas’ Collection. “I guess that does make a twisted kind of sense.” He let his gaze slip over to one of the pieces across the hall. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Don’t you?” Basil shot back, and, yeah, he felt that one. The stark reminder that he needed this smug asshole’s help. “My scheduled break starts in just a moment, but I have something to do first.  You can meet me outside - the smoker’s lounge towards the back of the building.”

“See you there,” Juno replied to Basil’s retreating back. He had no intentions of heading there first, but he suspected Basil knew that already.

Basil slid easily through the shifting throngs of Shelley’s guests, his heels adding just enough height that Juno could easily track his movements from where he followed along the outskirts of the crowds. He tried to pretend to be interested in some of the artwork on display but, _ god. _ The Dempsey’s was the shittiest art niche he’d ever seen. He momentarily got distracted enough frowning at one statue that he stopped to figure out what the hell it was supposed to be, a vase of flowers or someone trying to have sex with a tree.

The distinct peal of Basil’s voice drew his attention back. “Councilman, if you would pardon me for just a moment…”

“You have got to be kidding me...” Juno muttered to himself.

Councilman Tomason was a forgettable sort of person. A bit short, a bit stout, tip them over and you’d pour them out - or at least drop their million-cred toupee, and make them screech loud and high enough you’d wish they were a teapot you could shut them the hell up. And that’s pretty much how you’d recognize Tomason, after squinting for a few minutes wondering why the hell the living kettle looked familiar to you. In a city full of people trying to show off their money, Tomason was like that kid who didn’t know how to play the game but had the most expensive, top-of-the-line equipment for it on the market. Always pristine, so you knew that they were all talk and mostly-legal tender.

Juno stuck his drink on the pedestal next to the shitty sculpture and ducked around to get a better view of what Basil was up to, which, alright, so he  _ kind of _ knew already, but there’s no way it was that simple, right? It was just his luck that the crowd would be so goddamned difficult to wade through.

Laughter bubbled up from the group around the Councilman, drowning out the conversation, and Juno could see a rakish uptic to Basil’s otherwise bland customer service smile. But, by the time Juno got to where he could actually see what was going on, there was nothing to see. The watch was back on the Councilman’s wrist as he gesticulated widely, moving on like nothing happened whatsoever. Basil’s gaze momentarily caught Juno’s, still smiling. He inclined his head knowingly, then turned and walked off.

That damned thief was going to be the death of him.

Juno groaned. He took a moment to collect himself, then started after his newly coined ‘living headache.’

Basil wasn’t the only one in the smoker’s lounge, but one decrepit old man in the far corner actually using the area for its intended purpose wasn’t Juno’s biggest concern right then. Juno crowded close to Basil and gritted out, “What the hell was that about?”

The waiter fluttered his eyelashes innocently. “Why, dear, did you forget already? You asked me to return his belongings for you. Did you change your mind?”

“That-” Juno grunted, punctuating his frustration with a pointed finger towards Basil’s face. “You’re up to something, and I’m not going to sit around and play games with this- whatever the hell it is you’re doing. I don’t trust you.”

“Well,” Basil mused. “We won’t be getting very far in this partnership like that, will we?”

“It’s not a partnership,” Juno said, frowning. “You’re only working with me because I know your secret; that doesn’t really scream ‘partners.’”

“True, I’d rather scream something else.”

Juno opened his mouth to retort, but, instead, just let out a noise of frustration.

A chuckle from the other side of the lounge drew their attention, the old man grinning sardonically. “Young lovers are so belligerent about everything these days.” He took a long drag from the remainder of his cigar, studying them with startlingly sharp, greyed eyes. Maybe he wasn’t quite as decrepit as Juno had thought.

“I think it keeps things more interesting that way. What about you, Sir...” Basil cut his response in before Juno could correct him that they weren’t lovers.

“Nobody worth mentioning,” The old man said with a startling grin. “Everything in this universe is what we make it to be, and right now I’m just a nosey old man butting in where doesn’t belong.”

“If you know that why’d you even-” Juno stopped. “You know what, nevermind.”

Laughing, the old man put the stub of his cigar out in the nearby tray. “Just be careful, you two, in my experience people are very good at making monsters of things.” Old, Grey, and Nosy stood up to leave, adjusting his jacket that came loose while he sat. He managed to be a lot taller than Juno would have expected, and the way he stood… He’d put money on the man being ex-military. “I’ll leave you two to it, but first,” he stopped near Juno. “Have we met before? I could swear there’s something familiar about you, but I can’t place it for the life of me… They say the memory is the first thing to go when you get to my age.”

Juno raised an eyebrow at the question. “Nnno, nope. Don’t think we have. I must have one of those faces.”

The man nodded slowly. “Perhaps... It could be that. Well, good luck to the both of you. Against all odds.”

They watched him leave in silence, more than a little confused. Juno turned to Basil, “Do you have any idea what the hell that was about?”

Basil shook his head. “You’re the one he seemed to recognize.”

“I don’t get that either.”

Well, Basil sighed. “At least if he’s gone that means no one will see.”

Juno narrowed his eyes. “See what?”

In lieu of an actual response, Basil headed to a gate near the corner Old Nosey was in, pulling out a key to unlock it, but apparently not needing it when it swung open at just his touch.

“That’s… not supposed to be unlocked like that.”

“Think maybe Old Nosey did it?” Juno suggested, only to get rolled eyes in response.

“Be serious, detective.”

“I  _ am _ being serious!” he grumbled, following Basil outside the gated lounge. “Why are we headed to the trash corral?”

“I thought that you’d want to see the scene of the crime,” Basil deadpanned. “This is where they found Corin and Vidal the other night. Behind the dumpsters.”

“Huh,” Juno mused. “That’s suspicious.”

“It’s definitely an odd place to hang out. Plus, neither of them will say anything about why they were back here.”

“Wait, wait, neither? So Vidal’s fine, then?” Juno almost balked. It would be just like the fae to overblow something from accidental harm straight to death threats.

Basil paused, considering. “They’re… alive. For now.”

On second thought, that’s never a good response.

“Vidal’s condition is fluctuating. They’ve been fighting their way in and out of consciousness, though rarely lucid. Seizing, night terrors, and steadily declining health - rumors say that it was poison.” Basil’s somber explanation sounded a lot like sympathy. Juno felt pretty bad for the kid too.

“Where-” Juno let out a harsh breath. “Where the hell would they even get their hands on a fae poison? Last I checked, they’re immune to the usual suspects. Hell, the ones I know are huge fans of belladonna cocktails and flavor their favorite cupcakes with arsenic.”

Basil chuckled lightly. “You run in interesting circles, Juno.”

“Not by choice, and don’t even get any ideas in your head about that being a good thing. You would not believe how many times I’ve had to turn down invitations to dinner.” Juno shuddered. Of course, it was far more than just the Kanegawa’s affinity for deadly delicacies that kept him from ever accepting the offers.

“What a tragedy,” Basil drawled.

Juno turned to examine the corral, “Right, okay. Have these been emptied since the two were found?”

“No, disposal is scheduled for later tonight, after the gala.”

“Right, guess that settles it then,” Juno said, pulling a face. It wasn’t his favorite part of the job, that’s for sure. He took off his jacket and shoved it at Basil. “Hold this, and don’t steal anything. I know exactly what I’ve got in there.” He didn’t, actually, but he knew the important stuff.

“Do I look like-...  _ What  _ are you doing?” Basil asked, and, really, did he have to sound so judgy about it?

“Yes, you do,” Juno answered, opening the lid and hoisting himself over the edge of the first dumpster. “And I’m pretty sure I don’t have to answer the second question.”

“Humor me, Juno:  _ why _ are you in the dumpster?”

“Haven’t you ever been a stupid kid before, Franks?”

“I’m sure our childhoods were very different, detective. What does that have to do with you… perusing the museum’s trash?”

“Imagine you’re a pair of decently well-off kids who are about to do something stupid that your parents would disapprove of, and you don’t want to get caught.” Juno cautiously waded over to pick through the boxes and shoving them aside when they didn’t conceal whatever he was looking for. “Usually places like this only send someone to the corral every few hours or so when garbage fills up inside. If you wait until after that, you’ve got a decent window to get up to something you shouldn’t.”

“And a convenient place to dispose of the evidence,” Basil finished, catching on.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Juno hopped out, moving on to the next garbage. “Accidents like this happen a lot when you’re young and think nothing can touch you. I just gotta figure out what it was they were doing.”

Basil sighed. “I refuse to join you in there, but what are we looking for?” 

Juno shrugged, shuffling things around. “Paraphernalia, Bag of something-” He made a face, pushing something to the side with is foot. “Weird. Maybe a jar or bottle? Half smoked stick of something unusual - but not any that actually burned down to the butt, needles, pipes. Anything else that might stick out.”

“Well, I suppose I’m not a detective of _ your _ caliber,” Basil began, winding his way to the back of the corral. He flicked Juno’s coat around and pulled it on, then took out a pair of gloves and a flashlight from one of his own pockets.  “But I might perhaps manage a passable imitation of the craft.”

“That doesn’t sound like an insult  _ or  _ a compliment,” Juno complained to himself. The fact that he wasn’t finding anything wasn’t improving his mood either. He’d have to scratch the only working theory he had for now, which kinda sucked. He pulled himself out and looked around for Basil, spotting him hunched over behind the dumpster he’d just climbed out of.

“Hey, Bas- is that my jacket?” Juno asked, scandalised. “What the hell are you doing!?”

“That, should be my line,” came a sharp voice, clear as a bell.

As it turned out, Juno was wrong about the other shoe that was going to drop. It was bubblegum pink, with butterfly wing flares and a heel so long and thin it looked like it would pierce through your skin and then leave shrapnel behind as a reminder of why you should never have been in the way to get stepped on in the first place. It matched perfectly with the daggers that Primrose Dempsey was staring at him from the lounge gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself I wasn't going to do that thing where I take a literal year between chapter updates. And, uh, I didn't!  
> Improvement!

**Author's Note:**

> Help me, I've created a monster.
> 
> You can find me at liedownquisition on tumblr if u wanna shout at me abt the Idiots.


End file.
